"Whatever You Want…”

Detroit—March, 2018

“I want a session that will just be us.  I want you to get much more nasty than you were able to with someone else in the room.”

I typed back that I was indeed open to a meet. 

“Great!”  The writer was the African American sub I had played with in January when my friend Alex and I had taken turns on him.  (That meet is detailed Here.  Pictures of the boy at our first meeting are Here and Here.)

We set up a time.  I would arrive and make myself at home while he finished up at work.  The scene would begin not when he got home—but when he emerged from the shower.  On the appointed day, I found his house easily.  I had an hour or so to wait for him. 

I let myself in at the side door.  I heard fucking.  Was he here?  Was there some top filling his hole for me?  I walked through the kitchen into the living room.  Nope.  It was the television.  It was playing porn for me to enjoy until he got home.  A number of the scenes in the conglomeration he had playing were of young Black men being used, abused and seeded by White daddies.  Sitting square in front of the television was his rimseat. 

I shed my clothes and got into my leathers.  I sat on the couch behind the rimchair.  My cock got hard fast.  I didn’t stroke it, but I certainly squeezed it occasionally as the men/boys on screen were bent over and used for no one’s pleasure but the top doing the fucking.

The sub came in.  We said hello.  Barely.  I basically acted like the porn was far more interesting than he was.  He made a beeline to the shower.  In no time, he came out and knelt in front of me, dressed in nothing but a blue jock…

I stand up.  I walk behind him and lift his left arm.  I buckle the wrist restraint on him.  He shivers.  I do the right arm.  I reach down and fasten them together.  His head is down, chin on his collar bone.  I walk around in front of him.

“Look at me.”  My voice is low.  Level.  Authoritive.

His head snaps to attention.

“Now, boy, you are going to suck my cock.”

He starts to speak.

“Quiet.”  My voice is no louder.  Just more commanding.  “Open your damn mouth.”

He does and I’m inside him.  I grab his ears and begin a demanding throat fuck.  He just ovals as widely as possible and lets me use him.  I love moving over his velvety tongue as my cock pushes into his throat. 

When I stop fucking, he is panting.  I lean over, pull his chin down and spit in his mouth.  “Now get under the seat.”  I undo his hands so he can lie on his back.  I put the seat down.  I spit on his face once more and sit on the rimchair.  It’s a particularly hot scene on the television.  I stroke myself.  I make occasional comments to let him know my grunts and groans are inspired by the porn, not by the superb rimming he is giving me.

He is panting, desperate for air and some slight word of encouragement.  I change tactics.  “Get your tongue in there,” I bark out.  “If you like my hole so much, show it.” 

He redoubles his efforts.  And he does love my hole.  His cock has been rock hard from the moment his tongue first touched my pucker.  “That’s it,” I sigh.  “Eat my fuckin’ hole.  Make me want to fuck you.”

I get up.  I strap the ankle restraints onto his ankles as he lies under the seat.  I snap on the spreader bar between them.  I sit back down and let him continue.  I make him wonder when I am going to use the new equipment.

I wait…and let him lick.

I stand.  I tell him to stick out his tongue.  I spit on it.  I grab the bar and pull his legs up.  “Hold on to it,” I tell him.  He grabs the bar, still under the seat, and pulls it so his ass is elevated.  I kneel, spit on my dick and guide it into his hole.

“Ohhhh…fuck…” he whimpers as I begin to fill him.

“Take it, Asslicker.  It’s what you wanted.”

The moment I belittle him, his hole flowers open.  I am balls deep in his hot black ass.  I look down.  I can never get over the color contrast of my pink and white dick splitting his ebony cheeks wide open.  He pulls on the bar, bringing his ankles closer to his head and tilting his ass up for even easier access for me.  I fuck away.  The sounds of the real fucking are covering the ones from the TV.  His ass is making a delicious wet sound, like he already has a load in him, even though I know that’s not true. 

I pull out of his ass, pulling up the seat of the rimseat.  “Sit up.”  I stand as he does what I tell him.  My dick goes into his mouth.  “Taste your hole.”  He goes to town on me.  “Clean me off.  Every drop.”

I pull out and spit in his mouth once more.  He hates it—but he lets me do it.

I push him around until he is leaning on one of his chairs—wet ass jutting directly at me.  I enter him roughly and fuck…

*****

We are in his sling room.  He is secured to the frame by the wrist restraints.  And blindfolded.  I hit him again with a leather paddle on his rounded butt.  I have used a paint stirrer, some sort of fraternity paddle and now this leather one.  I let it drop with a clatter.  He reacts to the sound just as much as if I had hit him again. 

I pick up the riding crop.  I slap it into my hand.  Swish and slap.  He tenses.  Instead of hitting him, I run the leather tipped flap down his spine.  I linger as it goes down his ass crack.  He whimpers.

“Beat me.  Whatever you want…”

I wait a moment. Then I spit on his ass.  The crop comes down on the wet spot with a terrific crack. 

“Yes, SIR.”

Again and again. 

*****

He’s in the sling.  I am fucking him hard.  I have released his arms from where I had them fastened above his head.  He rubs them to get some circulation back into them.  Then he begins jerking his dick.  I let him. 

“I’m going to cum, Sir.”

“Go ahead, boy.”

He shoots an amazing amount of white cum across his black abs.  I stop fucking and pull out.  He looks relieved.   I scoop up his cum and coat my cock.  I push back into him.  He grunts—clearly not expecting me to go up him again. 

I fuck. 

With the slickness of his jizz, I am breeding him in no time…